Spider-Man: Blues
by williamriverdale
Summary: One night, Spider-Man doesn't feel so good.


It didn't feel good, even though there was nothing ill to speak about. The city was quiet tonight. My Parker Luck would have made me say 'too quiet' but it wasn't so this time. The city was in genuine quiet and in peace. It didn't feel good.

I sat beside my wonderful pal, Bruce, the gargoyle. He and his friends watched over the city silently. I would talk to him but I was not in the mood. It was ironic considering I had come here to talk. Being Spider-Man didn't leave a lot of options to have a friend.

I peered over the edge down the city of New York below, leaving Bruce t8 his own thoughts. Even now, my eyes searched for a chance to swing. I was waiting like a runner on his mark, eager for the incoming shout of 'Go!' and sprint away kicking up dust. For me, it was a scream or a siren. There was no siren's song this night.

"Maybe I should call it in for today," I mumbled to myself but made no inclination to move. It felt like the city and the sky stared at me, would drink what I was going to do.

I did nothing.

I sighed and tore off the mask from my face. It stung a little. The fabric clung tightly when left on too long.

I don't feel so hot right now.

My thoughts felt short yet jumbled somehow. They felt different. I was wanting crimes to occur for Christ's sake. Such a selfish thought to think. Was my boredom so great that I would want people to get hurt?

There was no answer inside of me. Just heaviness. It wasn't guilt. This was something else.

I looked to the sky for an answer. A moon shone in the dark-bright and pale. Stars twinkled like small rotating crystals. The sight made me feel nothing.

I was tired. I hadn't moved a muscle and I was more tired than when I got nearly killed by the Scorpion. Where was he anyway? He should have escaped the prison he's in a long time ago.

I sat down, my legs dangling off the edge. Mask in my hand, I gave a deep sigh. The heaviness didn't escape me.

"What's wrong with me?"

I knew what was wrong but I was too afraid to admit it. After admitting it, what then? I couldn't punch it. And there I was back where I started.

It didn't feel good, even though there was nothing ill to speak about. The city was quiet tonight. My Parker Luck would have made me say 'too quiet' but it wasn't so this time. The city was in genuine quiet and in peace. It didn't feel good.

I sat beside my wonderful pal, Bruce, the gargoyle. He and his friends watched over the city silently. I would talk to him but I was not in the mood. It was ironic considering I had come here to talk. Being Spider-Man didn't leave a lot of options to have a friend.

I peered over the edge down the city of New York below, leaving Bruce t8 his own thoughts. Even now, my eyes searched for a chance to swing. I was waiting like a runner on his mark, eager for the incoming shout of 'Go!' and sprint away kicking up dust. For me, it was a scream or a siren. There was no siren's song this night.

"Maybe I should call it in for today," I mumbled to myself but made no inclination to move. It felt like the city and the sky stared at me, would drink what I was going to do.

I did nothing.

I sighed and tore off the mask from my face. It stung a little. The fabric clung tightly when left on too long.

I don't feel so hot right now.

My thoughts felt short yet jumbled somehow. They felt different. I was wanting crimes to occur for Christ's sake. Such a selfish thought to think. Was my boredom so great that I would want people to get hurt?

There was no answer inside of me. Just heaviness. It wasn't guilt. This was something else.

I looked to the sky for an answer. A moon shone in the dark-bright and pale. Stars twinkled like small rotating crystals. The sight made me feel nothing.

I was tired. I hadn't moved a muscle and I was more tired than when I got nearly killed by the Scorpion. Where was he anyway? He should have escaped the prison he's in a long time ago.

I sat down, my legs dangling off the edge. Mask in my hand, I gave a deep sigh. The heaviness didn't escape me.

"What's wrong with me?"

I knew what was wrong but I was too afraid to admit it. After admitting it, what then? I couldn't punch it. And there I was back where I started.

 **A/n: The repetition is not a mistake. Tried a new perspective with Spider-Man. Please do leave a review. Constructive criticisms are always welcomed and if you enjoyed it, check out my other Spider-Man stories.**


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